


and the stars look very different today

by bruce_the_shark



Series: mostly stars, partially void [2]
Category: Band of Brothers, Band of Brothers RPF
Genre: Fluff and Smut, HBO War Fandom, M/M, Nerds in Love, Rare Pairings, Smut, bad science one liners, look i smutted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 06:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11030643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruce_the_shark/pseuds/bruce_the_shark
Summary: Chuck gives up. “Fuck it.” He rolls his eyes, slips from the counter to pad out of the kitchen and down the hall to what was once his bedroom. It no longer feels right to claim it solely as his own considering it’s Ron’s sheets that cover the bed, his dirty clothes heaped by the door and his books mixed with Chuck’s own on the nightstand. Chuck’s not entirely sure where he ends and Ron begins, hasn’t been for the past three years.They just kind of fell together and never looked back.





	and the stars look very different today

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's not Luztoye??? Or Speirton???

“We need to talk.” Chuck sighs from his seat on the kitchen counter. Ron’s eyes dart immediately to the mint plant sitting innocently by the sink. Chuck follows his gaze, face scrunched in confusion as he looks between the man at the table and the herb, clearly trying to make a connection. “Um. Okay.” He shakes his head, chalks it up as Ron just being Ron. “We need to come up with a better arrangement here.”

“What do you mean?” Ron asks, finally slides his gaze away from the plant to look at Chuck across the kitchen. “What arrangement?”

Chuck stares at him. “Ron.” He states clearly. “We’re living between two houses...you’re practically moved into mine. Half of my stuff is at your place. We use each other’s toothbrush.”

Ron spoons some Cinnamon Toast Crunch into his mouth. “So?” He garbles out.

“So.” Chuck sighs the sigh of the truly weary. “I didn’t have anything I needed for my lectures today because everything was at your house.”

“Sounds like a personal problem.” Ron smirks.

Chuck gives up. “Fuck it.” He rolls his eyes, slips from the counter to pad out of the kitchen and down the hall to what was once his bedroom. It no longer feels right to claim it solely as his own considering it’s Ron’s sheets that cover the bed, his dirty clothes heaped by the door and his books mixed with Chuck’s own on the nightstand. Chuck’s not entirely sure where he ends and Ron begins, hasn’t been for the past three years.

They just kind of fell together and never looked back.

He face plants unceremoniously onto the bed, wriggles around until he’s in the direct path of the box fan humming lowly in the window. It’s been a week and a half week since the AC went out. A week and a half since Ron said he’d fix it. Go figure.

Chuck resigns himself to the fact that he’ll just have to ask Luz. He groans at the thought, already knows it’s going to be a nightmare trying to track down the other man in the midst of all his various handyman gigs for the summer. A lesser man not dating Ronald C. Speirs would cry. Chuck is, so he just ponies up and accepts the fact that his life will never be anything close to normal.

“Which would you pick.” The statement comes quietly from the doorway. “Between your place or mine.”

Chuck shrugs the best he can in his face down position. “I don’t even know at this point.” He grunts out. “Yours has a working AC at least.”

Ron’s never been able to avoid the squeaky spot in the floor halfway to the bed, hits it every time he comes and goes. Chuck grins to himself as he hears it faintly against the dull roar of the fan. “Forget the AC.” Ron ignores his surly tone. “You’re a man of science, inductive reason this shit.”

Chuck snorts. “So are you and I know you know that’s not how inductive reasoning works.” He’d roll his eyes if they weren’t already shut. “Forget it, I just--” He jumps at the feel of hands smoothing up the backs of his thighs. “Ron, seriously?” Chuck lets himself whine. “It’s too hot.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night.” There’s a grin in Ron’s voice, the asshole.

“I don’t know what the fuck I was saying last night, I must have been sleep talking.” Chuck shifts, feels the stretch in his legs as he opens them wider to allow for Ron to climb up onto the bed behind him, his hands coming to rest at Chuck’s hips. “Clearly you weren’t around to hear it all?”

Ron fingers at the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Got toned for a four alarm fire around three forty. I was supposed to be at the station at seven anyways so I just stayed, swapped half a shift.”

Chuck hums as though he fully understands the words that just came out of his mouth. All he knows for sure is that he rolled over to find a missing Ron at some point in the middle of the night and hadn’t seen him again until an hour ago when he got home from work, Ron eating the last of the cereal for dinner.

“Gonna at least finish what you started?” Chuck mumbles, lulled by the rhythmic massaging of his lower back.

“I would have last night if someone hadn’t fell asleep.”

Okay, yeah, touche, Chuck’ll admit that last night wasn’t his finest moment. “Not my fault I’m teaching advanced relativistic astrophysics and quantum mechanics of the interstellar medium this semester.”  

Ron pauses behind him. “The fuck.”

Chuck can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him, has to crane his neck to see over his shoulder. “You were saying?” He teases with a grin.

Ron shifts over him, smooths his hands from Chuck’s hips to his ribs, up his spine, over his shoulders. “Such dirty talk.” He deadpans, thumbs digging in deliciously at the base of Chuck’s neck. “Tell me more.”

“Nah.” Chuck drops his head forward, moans as Ron works out a particularly vicious knot. “You usually last about five minutes before your face glazes over. That’s when I know I’ve lost you.”

Ron huffs. “Forgive me for not going to Caltech.”

“That was your first mistake.” Chuck agrees. “MIT should be reimbursed for all the effort they wasted on you.”

It gets the desired laugh Chuck was hoping for, a rich burst of baritone that reverberates off the walls around them, that hums in time with the whirring of the fan. Chuck wants to live in the folds of its softness. He dips his head further at the press of lips against his neck, the feel of hands gripping his biceps. His breath quickens at the mark Ron works into existence beneath his ear, knows it’ll be on full display for all to see come morning. He can’t bring himself to care.

“We going all the way this time?” Ron teases into his ear, clearly enjoying himself.

Chuck shifts his hips against the mattress, manages to arch himself up into the warm mass hovering above him. “Why are you asking like it’s prom night or something?” He grits out. “Just fuck me already.”

Ron doesn’t need to be told twice, just nips once at Chuck’s ear before reversing his trail back down the length of his body, fingers snagging the top of his boxer briefs as he goes, fabric dragging against his legs. They disappear along with Ron’s body heat, but the man hasn’t gone far. Chuck can hear the soft landing of a crumpled tee and sweats hitting the floor, bounces bodily as the bed dips viciously behind him. He gasps at the brashness of Ron’s hands, practically branding as they grip at the backs of his thighs.

Chuck lets himself collapse forward, arms tingling from the effort of keeping him propped up on elbows for so long. He breathes deep into the jersey knit sheets beneath him, sucks air at the first touch of lips to the small of his back. He fists at the sheets as the lips trail lower, Ron teasing, tasting, testing him. His attempt to grind down into the mattress doesn’t go unnoticed, the hands on his thighs sliding up to grip at his hips, stopping him before he can even fully begin. He bucks against the hold just to prove he can, is rewarded with a stinging nip that has him gasping once more.

“So impatient.” Ron mouths against his skin, cutting the sudden tension between them. “Sure it’s not prom night?”

“I swear to god it’ll be my foot up your ass if you don’t get on with it.” Chuck grits out. Ron chuckles, breath hot against the curve of Chuck’s ass as the other man shifts behind him, Chuck’s legs dipping in tandem with the bed. “ _Ron_.” He whines, cuts himself off with a moan at the feeling of thumbs spreading him open, cool air rushing in to meet the most heated part of him. Ron’s lips are quick to follow, Chuck keening at the sensation of grating stubble against sensitive skin. He jerks violently at the touch of tongue, white knuckling the sheets as Ron finally gives up all pretenses of foreplay.

Chuck’s always marveled at the man’s ability to show no mercy, has been wary of it at times, but right now, in this instance of blatant _want_ and _need_ boiling in his blood, he could give less of a fuck.

Ron gives him the same fierce focus and violent determination as he does his job when faced with extinguishing a burning building or freeing someone from a totaled car. Chuck writhes from the force of it, pants at the rising wave of pleasure he can feel building with every drag of Ron’s tongue.

“Ron, _Ron_ , too close…jesus...” Chuck manages to bite out between labored breaths, arm reaching back feebly to push ineffectually at the mess of Ron’s hair. “Too close.”

Ron has the audacity to smirk up at him. “Already?” He quirks a brow sharply. “Someone’s getting out shape.” He squeezes at the flesh in his palms.

“Evil.” Chuck hisses as he bucks against the grip on his ass. “ _So_ evil.”

“I know.” Ron practically purrs as he leans back on his heels, soothes his hands along Chuck’s legs. “Would you like to take a moment to consider our lord and savior, Jesus Christ?”

Chuck can’t stop the incredulous laughter that punches out of him as he’s manhandled onto his back, Ron smiling down at him as he pulls and prods Chuck into the middle of the bed. Ron leans over him with a hand on either side of his head, a solid mass of muscle poised between his thighs. Ron cuts him off with a kiss that’s more bite than anything, Chuck’s hands coming up to tangle in the inky black mess of sweat tacky hair already mussed between his fingers. Ron kisses as though they’re in a back alley at the end of world, all clashing teeth and pure filth, seemingly driven by the thought that this could be it. The end.

Chuck’s never experienced anything hotter.

He moans as Ron trails a hand down his chest, fingers catching on a vulnerable nipple on their way past, venturing down further between them to grip at both their hardened cocks. Chuck breaks away panting, face falling sideways to bite at the sinewy forearm framing him in as Ron jerks them off, pace frantic and punishing, his own face falling forward into the cradle of Chuck’s neck. Chuck works one of his own hands free of the tangled sheets, reaches down to grasp blindly at Ron’s wrist. He forces himself to turn away from the other man’s forearm before he can break skin, forces himself to focus as he stills the arm in his grip, his knees curling behind Ron’s own as he heaves them over. Ron blinks up at him from his back.

Chuck grins down at him wickedly, bats away Ron’s hand as he settles further on the other man’s hips. “Get the lube.” Chuck demands as he nods at the nightstand, fingers dancing lightly along the straining line of Ron’s cock. Ron’s still blinking up at him, face bordering on awe as though it’s Christmas come early. Chuck can’t help but revel in it, knows it’s been awhile since they’ve done it like this. “Ground control to Major Ron?” He tries, takes pride in the resulting eye roll, delayed it may be. He shifts together with Ron as the other man twists to reach the nightstand, practically rips open the drawer in his haste to get the lube. His fingers pause mid air above a box of condoms.

He looks at Chuck, brow quirked in question. Chuck bites at his bottom lip.

“I know we’ve talked about it.” Ron states, fingers hovering. Chuck considers him, the little life they’ve built together in the small span of three years. They get tested regularly. They’ve talked about it.

“Time to do it.” Chuck shrugs. “Or I guess not do it.” He grins as Ron snaps the drawer shut, lube solely in hand. Ron surges up to meet him in a heated kiss, Chuck grinding them together slowly, swallowing Ron’s groan with one of his own. He forces the other man back with a hand to his chest, picks up the lube with his other, flicks the cap open with deft fingers. Ron watches it all with a heated glare. Chuck smirks down at him as he slicks up his fingers, lets it warm to his skin before reaching back behind himself to finish what Ron started.

“That’s it, Chuck, that’s it.” Fingers clutch at the outsides of his thighs as he works himself open. “ _Fuck_.” Ron breathes out beneath him. Chuck shifts himself forward when he’s ready, reaches down to smear at the leaking precome of Ron’s cock. He lines himself up with one hand, braces himself up with the other as he sinks down, head falling back at the first kiss of pressure.

“Shit.” Chuck pants, adjusts his himself to the stretch. “ _Jesus_.”

“You had your chance at salvation earlier.” Ron grits out, hips stuttering in their refrain to keep still. “You passed.”

Chuck huffs out a breath of a laugh at that. “The fuck is wrong with you.” He shakes his head.

“A lot of things.”

“No shit.” Chuck pants out roughly, sinks down that last little inch. “Fucking hell.” He hisses, places his shaking hands over Ron’s own on his hips. He rocks forward the slightest bit, isn’t sure who moans first. Ron’s eyes bore into his as he starts up a slow rhythm, more of a twist than anything, but it’s enough to have both of them swallowing hard. He works them up in speed slowly, Ron’s grip bruising on his hips as his head falls forward in boneless pleasure. He senses Ron’s knees bending into peaks behind him, keens at the first upward thrust that meets his own downward one, knows it's time to split the reins.

Chuck arches forward, breath catching as he reaches back with sweaty palms to balance himself with Ron’s knees. Ron watches with half lidded eyes, one hand still acting as a guide on Chuck’s hip, the other jerking roughly at Chuck’s leaking length. Chuck braces himself the best he can as Ron thrusts up into him harder, the numbing pull of an approaching orgasm burning through him.

“Ron.” He gasps, head lolling in an attempt to meet Ron’s gaze. “ _Ron_.”

“C’mon.” Ron praises, wristing pumping in time with his hips. “C’mon, Chuck.”

“I...I’m... _I’m--_ ” Chuck’s breath stutters, heart freeze framing in his chest as Ron thrusts sharply, twists his grip just so to have Chuck spilling onto his chest, clenching around him tightly as he keens loud enough to drown out the box fan. Ron takes it all in with lust blown pupils, continues his frantic thrusts until his own orgasm rips through him, hips stuttering in aftershocks as he grips feebly at the already rubbed raw hips holding him down.

Chuck pants as he gets his balance, attempts to comb back the sweat slickened strands of hair plastered to his forehead as tries to open his eyes. He blinks as he looks about the room, comes back into himself as he looks down at Ron doing the same beneath him. Laughter bubbles up from his gut, makes him feel light all over as collapses forward onto the spattered mess of Ron’s chest and stomach.

“ _Fuck_.” Ron says with feeling.

Chuck snorts, nuzzles into the sweat tacky curve of Ron’s neck. “Clean up’s going to be interesting.” He points out several minutes later when their breathing’s returned mostly to normal and the box fan’s cooled their sweat enough they’re shivering.

Ron laughs the loudest he’s ever heard.

 

///

 

A month later Chuck’s brushing his teeth when Ron yells for him from the kitchen. He shuffles down the hall with a mouthful of toothpaste, weaving between stacks of half unpacked moving boxes. He pokes his head around the door jamb. “What?” He grunts out, still half asleep and already late for his morning lecture. What else was new.

Ron’s standing by the sink, a pile of dirt of on the counter next to him, their mint plant in one hand and...something else in his other. Chuck slowly steps into the room, toothbrush dangling from his mouth. “Um.” He states, at a loss for words.

Ron unceremoniously dumps the plant into the sink as he turns to face him fully, expression oddly pinched. Chuck’s about to lecture him on dignified deaths, even for herbs, when Ron holds up a little plastic baggy the size of a credit card, half filled with what looks like crack cocaine.

“The fuck is wrong with you.” Chuck observes, stares between it and Ron. “You’re hiding drugs in our plants because…?”

Ron snorts, takes a step forward as Chuck takes a step back. “Really.” Ron deadpans, lowers his stash of rock candy.

“What?” Chuck defends, eyes wide as he points at the baggy in Ron’s hand with his toothbrush. “You’ve been hiding coke in my goddamn plant.”

“It’s not coke.” Ron rolls his eyes, pops open the bag. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while.”

Chuck shuffles curiously closer, watches with narrowed eyes as Ron fishes around in what’s apparently not crack cocaine with two fingers, face pinched in concentration. It takes him a few tries, but his fingers eventually emerge with something between them, something small, round, and shiny.

Chuck drops his toothbrush.

Ron smiles softly, a gentle little thing that Chuck knows is just for him.

“Charles Edward Grant.” Ron steps into his space. “In a complete twist of cosmic irony you’re a fucking nerd who went to Caltech but still somehow ended up on my side of the country teaching at MIT.”

Chuck opens his mouth to protest, closes it at Ron’s pointed _look_.

“You’re the human equivalent of Grumpy Cat, you get more excited for the Mars rover’s birthday than your own, and you have an unhealthy obsession with box fans and Raisin Bran.”

“ _If someone would actually fix the AC I wouldn’t_.” Chuck snaps with a whack to Ron’s arm.

“Can I finish?” The other man sighs, looks as though he wishes it were drugs in his little baggy after all.

“I don’t know,” Chuck deadpans, “can you? Or are you just going to stand there and roast me all day?”

Ron smirks. “Depends on your idea of fun.”

Chuck snorts, fights back a grin as Ron gets down on one knee, raises his eyebrows mockingly. “As I was saying,” Ron clears his throat, “you’re a pain in my ass who never minds your own business. I’m eighty-eight point seven eight percent sure you have eyes in the back of your head. You steal all my smokes.”

“Ron--”

“You’re stubborn as fuck, loyal to a fault, and I honestly don’t know how you ended up with me. How you stand me, but you do. Always. And I appreciate that.” Ron stares up at him, gaze unwavering. “I respect that.”

Chuck swallows hard against the tight feeling in his throat. “Is that it?” He asks, amused.

Ron blinks at him once, twice. Nods as he gets back up. “Yeah, I think that was it.”

“And?” Chuck quirks a brow expectantly.

Ron offers out the ring, a simple silver band with black etchings Chuck can’t quite make out. “Marry me?” He asks softly, gently.

Chuck just shakes his head with a grin as he holds out his hand, watches wide eyed as Ron slips the ring on his finger, feels his breath catch as it fits perfectly past his knuckle as though it belongs there. They both stare down the little band of metal that suddenly means so much.

“Shit.” Chuck breathes out, face incredulous.

Ron stares at him with pinched brows. “Is that a yeah?”

Chuck snorts, fists at Ron’s shirt to haul him in. “That’s a fuck yeah.” He smiles, steps on his toothbrush as he rears forward to kiss him.

Neither of them make it to work that day.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't really expect to love this pairing as much as I do, but here we are. The goal was to practice my smut writing, but then a marriage proposal happened too. Whoops?
> 
> Also, three things:  
> 1) It's never explicitly stated, but Ron's a firefighter and Chuck's a professor  
> 2) Ron went to MIT, Chuck went to Caltech (there's an amazing rivalry between these two schools, it's hilarious, it even has its own Wikipedia page)  
> 3) I have no idea what Chuck's middle name, so I went with the obvious "Edward" since his given initial's E
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr! @r-catsby


End file.
